Rhyme and Song
by Bil
Summary: Children with magic dripping from chubby fingers, men facing Death without flinching... A collection of poetry. AD, HP, DM, HG.
1. Requiem

Disclaimer: This is all JKR's fault.

A/N: This is to be my repository of _Harry Potter_ poetry from hence forth, since I've got too many stories on this site already and this way I won't bump up the count artificially. Previous poetry can be found under my profile (there're at least two others). This means that each chapter in this 'story' is completely unrelated to what came before or after.

* * *

A requiem of sorts for Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

**Death, Be Not Proud - A Requiem  
**by Bil!

HBP spoilers.

Disclaimer: Hey, _I_ didn't kill him!

A/N: Er, yeah. Not my sort of poetry, at least not to write, and I'm not entirely certain what I'm trying to say, but here it is. Written pre-DH, when I firmly (or more like hoped wildly) that Snape was in fact a good guy. Overall I do like Dumbledore, just possibly not as much as this poem might suggest: he made some bad choices, but most people do.

* * *

Death stood beneath the mighty tower  
In the darkling mid-night hour,  
Beside the body dead and still  
Where the spirit lingered still,  
And in a voice cold as the grave  
Said "Lo! thou now hast been betrayed."

The spirit looked upon the one  
Who comes to all when life is done  
And smiled, as though Death were no foe,  
And simply said but one word: No.  
But Death, who never knows defeat,  
Said, as one without conceit:

"Thy soul is mine, thy life is done,  
For thou hast been betrayed by one  
In whom thou trusted, whom thou loved."  
He raised a hand, of bone ungloved  
By skin; his deadly scythe did shine;  
And said then, "All thou art is mine."

The spirit (hero, wizard, mage,  
Mentor, teacher, student, sage)  
Said, "I have never feared your touch.  
My life was long, accomplished much.  
And if betrayal caused my death  
I do not love my friends the less."

Death gazed at him with wondering eyes,  
His head full of a wild surmise;  
He lowered his scythe and failed to strike  
A soul with no desire to fight.  
"Thou dost not choose to hate thy slayer?  
Thou givest mercy to betrayers?"

"He has been a friend to me.  
Betrayer? That we yet shall see.  
The game is not yet played out, Death,  
And there is hope while there is breath."  
He smiled; his voice was soft and low,  
As if to soften a coming blow.

"You may take me now but know:  
I do not die, I do not go,  
While one remembers how I lived.  
And yes, my killer I forgive."  
Lo! Death took off his heavy crown,  
Before the spirit he bowed down...

_So lift your voice in praise of one  
__Whose life has warmed us as the sun  
__Beams down upon the rows of corn  
__In fields crowded and fields forlorn,  
__Giving hope that all may pass  
__Through strife - and victor be at last_.


	2. Lies

A rather pessimistic look at Harry's life and the people around him.

* * *

**Lies  
**by Bil!

They lie to you and you believe it,  
because you can't believe they'd lie  
or  
because you want to believe it's true  
or  
because you don't know how else to survive.

And you do what they ask you to do,  
because it's all they ask of you  
or  
because you believe in them  
or  
because they say they love you.

(And maybe - just maybe - they do love you.)

And if they want you to save/kill/aid/love/die  
then you will do it.  
Because no one ever asked you for anything,  
(pathetic)  
because no one ever thought you worth anything,  
(useless)  
because no one ever loved you before.  
(fool)

It's worth it to you to take that chance:  
To believe whatever they tell you,  
(gullible)  
to do whatever they ask of you,  
(stupid)  
to risk everything in case - just in case - they love you.  
(fool)

(They say they love you and you'll die for "I love you".)

You don't care what strangers say about you,  
about the whispers behind closed doors.  
Because even if they lie, even if it's not true,  
they're still saying it to you.  
Because deep inside you are just a little boy  
locked in the dark under the stairs...

And you'll die for "I love you".


	3. Moonlight

Draco's story.

A/N: Obviously this doesn't fit with the last book, but meh.

* * *

**Red is Black in the Moonlight**  
by Bil!

They started you young,  
a baby with silver, moonlight hair,  
and taught you to hate before you could walk.  
An insult was your first word,  
a curse the first spell you cast.  
You dreamed of black robes -  
white masks and green curses  
and swirling red anger licking at your hem -  
where others dreamed of Arthur or Merlin.  
They beat pride into you,  
they taught you arrogance and greed  
and guided you into malice.

Baby grew up-  
silver hair in the moonlight  
like a unicorn's innocence.  
You learned to hate,  
to twist words into pain  
and slither with subtlety.  
You scorned the petty weaknesses  
of compassion, friendship, and joy.  
You were better than that.  
But for all the pride, all the training,  
you were just a boy  
and your heart craved a thing  
it could never understand.

Boy grew up-  
malice-trained, anger-reared.  
You had always been a good student.  
You learned pain and fear and hurt  
(but only in others-  
there was no pain for you,  
too proud for pain)  
and you learnt it well.  
You gained a black robe and a white mask-  
you earned your dream.  
Anger and blood - all the same colour;  
we are all the same colour.  
(Red is black in the moonlight.)

Man died-  
not understanding, still dreaming,  
still lost in the tangle of other people's schemes.  
Still a baby with silver, moonlight hair,  
still a boy filled with pride.  
Still with your first word on your lips  
and green curses encircling you-  
that which you were meant to be.  
Arrogance, pride, malice...  
and a silent, confused craving  
for something they had never offered you.  
Silver and black in the moonlight,  
and proud behind a white mask:  
All they had made you to be.


	4. Cuckoo's Child

I've always regretted that the books didn't dip into Hermione's relationship with her parents. Although I must admit that there are so many elements I wish could have been dealt with that there would probably be a whole library of HP books instead of just seven... Ah, well, that's what fanfiction's for.

* * *

**Cuckoo's Child  
**by Bil!

What did your parents think of you,  
Changeling child with a head filled  
With proud ideas and deep knowledge  
And magic dripping freely from chubby fingers?

Did they fear you?  
Were they proud of you?  
Did they love you?

As warblers love a cuckoo's child  
No less for its alienness  
Or for killing their eggs  
And faithfully feed its hungry maw.

Did they feed you?  
Did they give you freedom?  
Did they love you?

And when you came back from That School,  
Older and wiser, forged in pain,  
And nearer a death they can't understand,  
Locked in a fealty they can't comprehend-

Did they hug you?  
Did they let you go back?  
Did they love you?

And when you chose to forsake their world  
For one that could never be theirs,  
To follow a boy who would never be safe  
And fight in a war that would never end-

Did they let you go?  
Did they hide their tears?  
_Did they love you?_


End file.
